"Cato! Cato, did you hear that? Come on, open your eyes!"

I keep shaking his body until he finally opens his eyes. They're still gray, which is somehow a relief. It means he's still here and still the same Cato.

"You're saved!" I tell him excitedly. "We're saved! Can you believe it? We'll go home soon!"

"What?" Cato frowns in confusion, and I start laughing.

I don't know if I'm laughing out of relief or pure madness, because I've been worried like hell for the last few hours. Probably both.

But now Cato's awake, and there is a way to help him, and we will be on our way home in a couple of days – assumed it'll take us that long to kill our remaining opponents.

"Didn't you hear the announcement?" I ask while he sits up and stretches his limbs.

As I can find no trace of happiness or excitement or at least surprise in his gaze, I guess he must've slept too deep to hear a thing.

"There'll be a feast tomorrow", I explain to him. "They'll give every tribute what he needs the most, so it has to be your medicine!"

Cato just looks at me, his expression bewildered. "Wait – a feast?"

"Yeah, right at dawn, at the Cornucopia", I add. "We're going to get medicine for you, Cato!"

Understanding appears on his face, then again confusion. "There has to be a catch in it", he murmurs. "We can't just go there and get what we need."

"I'm pretty sure the others will show up, too", I reply. "They'll have us all in one spot. But that's not a problem for us, is it? It's our chance to finish everybody off!"

Cato puts a finger to his face, grimacing in pain. We both know that he won't be able to fight without the medicine. Still, I don't want to concentrate on the negative points now that there's hope.

Even if we can't kill the others right away, we can at least find out where they are hiding. And then, when Cato's skin has recovered, we're going to complete our work.

"What's this feast supposed to look like?" he wants to know.

"They didn't say anything", I answer. "I think we should just go there and see what happens."

Cato nods. "There's no other way, obviously. But you could keep an eye out for the others, so maybe you can kill one of them while I get the medicine."

I stare at him in disbelief. "While you get the medicine?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Seriously, I don't think that's a good idea", I say. "I'm gonna get it for you."

There's anger rising in Cato's eyes, but I can't help it. It would be too risky if he went himself, especially now that we're so close to the aim. I couldn't possibly bear losing him; not under these circumstances.

As I've already expected, Cato has another opinion on that.

"I'm going", he protests. "It's my medicine, and I'll go get it."

"But you're still weak", I insist, remembering his collapse only a few hours ago. "It's safer if I go."

"That doesn't matter. It's not a question of safety, but of honor."

When I open my mouth to say something, Cato interrupts me. "I don't want to hear anything about the risk, Clove! You can spare your words, okay?"

"No, Cato, listen –", I try it again, but he won't let me have a say.

"You listen!" Cato declares. "I thought you knew that we're Careers, Clove! Have you forgotten what that means? Have you forgotten everything they taught us about honor back home?"

"Since when do you care about conventions?" I counter.

Cato seems to ignore my comment. "Protecting one's honor is the most important task of a Career", he goes on. "So as long as I am in these Games, I will never let anyone do such a simple thing for me as getting some stupid medicine! I am never too weak to do that!"

"But you're not going to lose your honor by letting somebody help you", I explain insistently. "Can't you for once forget that we're tributes and see it as a simple favor? A favor… of a friend?"

I don't know what I've said that makes him so sad, but suddenly Cato's shoulders slump and he averts his gaze, caving in. I watch his profile; the swollen face, the muscular arms that seem so weak right now, as if all his strength had left his body. But why? What did I do?

"Cato…", I begin, but then fall silent because I don't really know what to say.

When Cato looks at me again, a dark shadow has fallen over his eyes. I immediately recognize that shadow; I've already seen it a couple of times in the arena and during our training sessions in the Capitol. It appears every time Cato's about to kill someone. The shadow means not only bloodlust, but also hatred.

In this moment, it's pure hatred. And it's clearly directed at me.

"We aren't friends", Cato says, his voice cold. "Did you really think that, Clove? We're co-tributes, and allies because of the brilliant strategy our mentors have figured out. But apart from that, you're nothing to me. So I hope you'll understand now why I won't let you do me a favor."

His words hurt like hell. Or worse. I just can't imagine anything worse than hell, but if I could, this would be what I'm feeling.

You're nothing to him. Simple-hearted little Clove thought Cato liked her. Arrogant, attractive, deadly Cato. Well, he doesn't. Not in the least.

I've been such a fool. We wouldn't even be allies if our mentors had decided differently. Cato would've killed me like he's killed all of the others. There wouldn't be any difference; I'd be just one dead tribute among twenty-two others. Just another one of those who died from Cato's hands, and forgotten just as fast.

An irresistible wave of rage is rising inside of me.

"If this is what you think, we can stop it now!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. "The show's over! You've never cared about what our mentors say, so we'll just quit this alliance. Right here."

I'm surprised my voice sounds so steady, so convinced. As if I actually wanted to split up.

Cato seems to buy it, too; despite the surprised expression that flashes across his face for a second. Then he's back to his usual indifference.

"Whatever", he says under his breath.

"Fine", I reply. "So that's it."

He doesn't answer, and he obviously doesn't care. That's okay. I'm not in the right mood for a goodbye, anyway. I'll just gather my stuff and go.

Cato watches me as I take my jacket and put on the belt with my knives. I decide to leave him the backpack, and that's all there is.

Before I go, I risk one last look at him. He's staring right back, the shadow of hatred still covering his eyes. I think there's something else, some tiny feeling that isn't strong enough to break through the surface, but I seriously don't care.

I could never hate Cato, but the hatred in his eyes makes me angry; unbelievably angry. Only the fact that he's Cato keeps me from stabbing him. He isn't the Cato I thought he was, but he's still Cato, and I still can't kill him. It's strange, like there's an imaginary wall that keeps me from hurting him. Probably he built it up himself. However, the wall has always been there from the moment I got to know Cato, and I've already tried a couple of times to tear it down, but it's indestructible. The greatest rage won't even cause a crack.

My hand grips a knife and for a moment, I consider giving it a try. I know it won't work, because nothing ever works, but I have to do something to get rid of my anger. I have to hurt something, somebody –

Then I think better of it and let go. I could yell at Cato, tell him that I hate him, that I condemn him; whatever. It would be a lie, though. So I decide to do nothing at all.

It's quite an effort to avert my gaze, but once I've turned away, I feel better. It's over. I'll forget about those ridiculous feelings I was never supposed to have. We were told from the beginning not to develop any feelings. My mother kept repeating they'd only stand in my way and cause nothing but trouble. When I was young, she would sit down on my bed and tell me about the dangers of emotions, and I would stare into the darkness and try to remember every word she said. I guess I've always wanted to be the perfect Career.

I wondered once if my mother had ever felt something for my father, if she had ever loved him and, in case she hadn't, if she loved me. I never dared to ask her, though.

Now I know she was right. Feelings mean trouble. They are like a burden you have to rid yourself of; like an obstacle you have to overcome.

That's why I'm leaving Cato without looking back. I need to forget that he even exists. And after a while, I'll just forget about my feelings for him. They will disappear and haunt somebody else, somebody weaker than me. I'll have won the fight.

"Clove?" Cato suddenly asks, but I'm already drunk with the promise of my reclaimed liberty.

"We're done, Cato", I answer and start walking away from him. "Good luck at the feast."

He remains silent. I quicken my pace, afraid that he might try to hold me back, but he doesn't.

Cato is letting me go without resistance.

The promising thought of my "reclaimed liberty" leaves me with the beginning of twilight.

I've walked until my feet hurt so bad I couldn't go on. I'm going to spend the night here in the woods, close to the Cornucopia. I don't feel any freer without Cato; I only feel worried. My aching feet included, I actually feel worse without him.

I keep wondering if he's okay. I know I shouldn't worry about him, because he certainly won't worry about me. He's probably happy that I'm gone. But even if he can't stand my presence, I'll have to go back to him. I have to admit that I care about him, no matter how much he hates me. And I'm worried.

I'm worried about him going to the feast without any rear cover.

I'm worried that he's going to be incautious and that Katniss will be there to take him at a disadvantage.

I'm worried he might get hurt. Or killed, which would still be unbearable for me.

My anger at Cato is long gone. It has left me with the hope of being happier without him. I've been stupid to even think that.

As the darkness is closing in over the arena, I try to figure out what to do next. Cato would probably just reject me if I went back to him. Anyway, it's not our broken alliance that's causing me trouble. I simply have to find a way to help Cato, at least until the swelling in his face has died down.

I sigh.

The swelling is only going to die down with medicine, and medicine is only available at a certain place. The Cornucopia. If I want to help Cato, I need to go to the feast.

So be it. I'll go there and get his medicine and find him. Maybe he'll allow me to stay with him until he has fully recovered, but I doubt it. More likely, he'll be beside himself with rage. But I guess I have to take that risk.

If I get the medicine before he does, Cato is not going to die, and that's all I want. I'll give him the medicine and leave him alone again. He will be alive and perfectly fine.

So that's my plan. It's the only way I can make sure he won't get hurt; the only way I can go on fighting without worrying about him.

I'll save his life, and then I'm going to disappear from it.